Alone, Naked in the Dark
by MegaNerdAlert
Summary: Minerva finds Hermione alone on the decimated Hogwarts grounds, after the final battle. Not only does Hermione not remember who she is, but she's completely naked. What's more, she wants to know if she and Minerva are friends, or something more.


**Just a little oneshot for y'all. Idea came to me at work.**

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Minerva McGonagall slowly approached the figure of a young woman, sitting on the ground near the Black Lake, knees pulled up to her chest. The rain drizzled down, and the small figure, clad in nothing but her skin, seemed to be under a spotlight. It might have been a beautiful scene had the spot light not been caused by a large tree, brightly burning; a sign of the battle that had just been waged, here on the Hogwarts grounds. If the cinders that sprinkled down were reaching the young woman's position, she made no flinching movement to show pain.

The figure, one Minerva was now close enough to identify as Hermione Jean Granger, watched her approach intently, rarely blinking. It wasn't until Minerva knelt down next to the young witch that she spoke.

"I know you," Hermione whispered.

"Of course you do, Miss Granger," Minerva replied tenderly.

"Granger?" the naked form asked. "Is that my name?"

"Yes," the older woman replied, voice shaking in fear of what may have caused Hermione's lack of appearent lack of memory. Was it spell shock? A head injury? Some dark curse? "Your name is Hermione Granger."

"What's your name?"

"Minerva McGonagall," she replied slowly. "I'm a teach...a friend of yours."

She had been about to say 'teacher', but had decided at the last second that Hermione might be uncomfortable, naked that she was, to be found by someone other than a friend.

"Can you take me home?" Hermione asked, voice shaking. "I can't seem to walk."

"Your home is a bit of a wreck at the moment," Minerva said, thinking of the Gryffindor Common Room. "How about we go to my place?"

"That sounds alright," the young woman replied. "Thank you, Minerva."

The use of her given name by a student was a bit unsettling, but in this situation, she'd let Hermione call her just about anything if it established trust. It was common for victims of spell shock to find themselves unable to walk, and often, they wouldn't even speak. Minerva was hopeful that the over-exposure to war and violence was all that ailed her star pupil. She was very likely to recover fully. The battle had been over for several hours now, so Hermione may have very well been unable to speak in the direct aftermath, and was already on the way to recovery. Any luck, she'd snap out of it completely by morning. Spell shock was common enough for seasoned Aurors when exposed to this much death; Minerva was actually surprised that Hermione was the first case she'd seen this evening, that is of course, if her diagnosis was correct.

"Come," Minerva said, standing and offering both her hands to the young woman before her. "Try to stand, and if you still cannot, I shall carry you."

Hermione took her hands slowly, and a moment later she was on her feet, and Minerva had wrapped her cloak around the nude form. "Are you sure we are only friends?" the eighteen year old asked. "I feel like...like there was something...more...between us."

"If you feel something...more," the older woman said slowly, surprised at Hermione's question, "then you have never said anything before. I doubt it, though. I'm an old woman, my dear. And you are young, beautiful, and have many men, or women if you chose, who would be lucky to be with you."

Hermione frowned, clutching tightly to the cloak around her as Minerva held her waist securely to assist her in beginning to walk. "Well I think you're beautiful," she said. "And I remember...I remember you make me smile. I remember feeling safe with you. If I've never asked you out on a proper date before, I think I've been a fool."

Minerva sighed. This was a surprise. Spell shock victims were often very honest, so she didn't doubt if what Hermione was saying to her was the truth, as she saw it. The older witch couldn't deny she found the young Miss Granger very attractive; she did swing that way, after all, and anyone attracted to the fairer sex would be out of their minds not to thing Hermione was downright stunning. That said, Hermione was her student, and she'd never date a student, of course. It simply wasn't done.

On the other hand, Hermione Granger wasn't, nor had she ever been, just any student. The brilliant young witch outstripped all others in intelligence, loyalty, courage, and maturity. Minerva grudgingly admitted to herself that she may, just maybe, be open to dating Hermione, if she was actually crazy enough to be attracted to someone who was not only her teacher, but very much her elder. "You're not well, Hermione," she whispered. "We'll have this discussion when you are more yourself."

"Will we?" the young woman asked. "Something tells me that if we don't talk about it now, we never will. I remember you being reserved, even among your friends. Would you really speak of a romantic interest with a woman much younger, any other time?"

Concerned that Hermione was about to make a bit of a display, Minerva apparated the two of them directly to her private quarters, at which point she directed Hermione to a sofa and then moved away, taking a seat on an armchair, out of the young woman's reach. "You are not yourself," she whispered.

Minerva's seating arrangement didn't seem to deter Hermione's desire to express herself. If anything, it amplified the brunette's resolve. She stood, leaving the cloak that had covered her naked body on the sofa and walking over to where the older witch was sitting. "Don't be Professor McGonagall, not right now," Hermione pleaded, reaching out and touching the elder women's cheek. "Just be Minerva. The woman I'm in love with."

"Hermione..." Minerva gasped, heart racing as the younger witch leaned forward, slowly but surely closing the gap between their lips.

"Kiss me," Hermione softly demanded, when their noses were close enough to touch.

It was only a few seconds before, almost of their own accord, Minerva's hands found the bare skin of Hermione's slim waistline and pulled her forward the rest of the way. Lips met gently, movement slow and careful. Minerva moaned as Hermione's hands slid down her neck and began unbuttoning her robes. "We shouldn't..." she tried to object.

"We should," Hermione disagreed, kisses trailing down the older witch's jawline, slender neck, and then began moving further down her now exposed chest.

Minerva pulled Hermione's face back up, and kissed her again, this time with passion. She lifted the young woman onto her lap, and then stood, carrying the slender, naked brunette from the living room into her bedroom. She couldn't begin to explain what Hermione saw in her, and why the eighteen year old was so intent on them coupling, now, but for her part, the first kiss she'd shared with Hermione had reminded her just how much she wanted to be touched right now. Be it in celebration, or an act of mourning for loved ones lost, after a battle was a common time for those who'd lived through it to need to feel alive, in the arms of another. The current group of fifth year students was so large because of how many children were conceived in the aftermath of Voldemort's first fall.

That said, personal standards were being set aside right now, and somehow, Minerva doubted she'd regret it in the morning. Hermione had been right - had nothing happened between them tonight, they would never have brought it up again. There was something... right about what was about to take place. "I love you," Minerva admitted, looking Hermione in the eye as she drove two fingers into the younger woman's tight, wet, pussy.

Brown eyes pinched closed, and a moan escaped Hermione's lips. "I've always loved you," Hermione breathed. "Always, Minerva. Always."

Minerva felt peace, knowing that Hermione was telling her that her memory had been restored. If the older witch was to guess, the apparation had snapped her out of it. For whatever reason, Hermione loved and wanted her, and Minerva silently vowed to never question why she had gotten so lucky.

Hours later, she spooned Hermione, both their bodies drenched in sweat, and neither caring as they fell asleep together: alone, naked in the dark.

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